


The Frolic Room

by RivRe



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Barely Rated M, Biromantic!Daniel Sousa, Coda, Historical Accuracy, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pining!Jack Thompson, i think i dont really know what a coda is, lets make that tag a thing k? cuz its supes important, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 20:41:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5942434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RivRe/pseuds/RivRe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU in which there are two Frolic Room bars, and Daniel is so taken aback he says yes.</p><p>Written because when Thompson said that my first thought was, "Yeah, that sounds like a gay bar."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Frolic Room

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to Noli for eating figurative popcorn while I had a JackDaniels meltdown. She encouraged me, so all complaints about this fic can be directed to allrightcallmefred on Tumblr. Compliments can be left below, or forwarded to [my Tumblr](deafhawkeye2k15.tumblr.com)
> 
> I'm new to this shipdom, but goshdarnit am I going to soon rule it! Or, the more likely alternative is that I will find out who DOES rule it and then bother them incessantly to be my friend.
> 
> A few period-typical homophic slurs, and the M rating is being on the safe side, it's borderline T.
> 
> Enjoy!

"The..the Frolic Room?" Daniel choked out. Jack couldn't be serious.

"Yeah." Jack didn't even miss a beat. "I keep hearin' that that's where all you west coast hot shots hang out these days."

"Oh." Sousa's surprise escaped him in a laugh. "I...yeah, sure I'll take you to the Frolic Room." He needed to get out of this room, get in to the fresh air, right now. "Just let me get my keys," he said, and he quickly pushed past Thompson.

Jack stared after him, confused for a moment, and then _oh_. He'd heard they'd opened up one of those out in LA somewhere, but it hadn't originally been priority for him to make it a stop. Looks like Sousa had been busy in his last few months, though.

Getting married, my ass...

 

 

"See, I couldn't help but notice you got a little flustered when I mentioned the bar." Jack was terrible, and he knew it. "There something else on your mind?"

"Nope." Daniel was back to perfect composure, eyes focused on the road in front of him. "Just, you know, getting married." And really regretting not refusing the offer of drinks.

"Course, course." Jack looked out the window, then over at Sousa, then out the window again. "You know what's funny to me? I kept hearin' about this other Frolic Room back over on the east coast, one of those fairy ones. Funny how this hot shot shop goes by the same name."

"Yeah? You been to that New York one?"

Jack could feel the air changing. He took a second before answering, but not too long of a second. "Yeah, once or twice. See what all the hype was about, learn a good place to go undercover."

"Undercover?" Sousa lifted an eyebrow, but his eyes were still on the road. "You mean because no one would ever expect Chief Thompson to be a fairy?" The words were prickly, his own term pushed back at him, and Jack knew he probably deserved it. But still, Sousa was a good man, a good chief too, Jack would admit, and he tried to soften his blow, tried to take it back a little. "Come on, I'll take you there instead. You can draw up a comparison and besides, I guarantee you these folks'll be way more interesting."

He turned at the next corner, and Jack didn't question how he seemed to already know the way.

 

 

"How are you so sure I'm not going to turn you in?" Jack wasn't trying to be a prat this time, he was genuinely curious.

"Turn me in for what? Knowing where the local queers roam is a crime now?"

"You know what I'm getting at, Sousa."

"Yeah, we were getting at drinks. To celebrate my engagement." He emphasized that last bit.

"Yeah, well Carter and the captain might have had their fling, too, didn't stop him from prancing around in those tights," Jack shot back.

Daniel snorted despite himself. They slowed to let some pedestrians cross. A woman was walking her dog. An older couple were leaning on each other, hobbling across slowly as they enjoyed their evening stroll. It was a quiet night.

"You ever wonder what would happen if the Russians actually figured out how to do to us what we did to the Japs?" Sousa asked suddenly.

Jack looked him in the eyes finally, too surprised by the question. "What?"

"If the Russians got those atoms bombs, they wouldn't use 'em. Because if they used 'em, we'd use 'em. Mutually assured destruction, they're calling it."

Thompson was still entirely confused by the path of the conversation.

"I'm not going to tell because you're not going to tell," the blonde finally said, understanding. Sousa parked the car.

"And I'm not going to tell because you're not going to tell." He pulled his key out of the ignition and reached back to grab his crutch.

"See, I kinda expected you to say that you're not going to tell because you'd actually call me a friend," Thompson cracked, a failed attempt at lightening the mood.

They both got out, and their gazes locked again, over the hood. Jack's face was portraying a strange number of powerfully mixed emotions, both secretive and expressive, and Sousa couldn't even distinguish a single one. And he'd thought he'd gotten to know the other agent pretty well by now.

"Shut up, Jackass," he said, turning away and breaking the tension. "Bar's half a block this way."

It took Jack a moment to collect himself before following.

The Brooklyn Frolic Room was dark and gritty. But no, over in West Hollywood, there was nothing but ritz and class. Patrons of all sorts lounged together, idle chatter floating through the air. It almost looked like a normal bar, apart from the drag-queen singer over on the stage, and the careful space left between all the patrons. It was rule over here, Jack had heard. Didn't make it any less strange.

"Stop ogling. Buy me a drink," Daniel nodded his head at the bar, busy as an NYPD precinct after New Year's Eve. Crowd was a little bit more upscale though.

"Yes sir, Chief." Jack followed his lead, swaggering over as calmly as he could to the bar, leaning against it just like Sousa did, waiting patiently for the woman behind the bar to come get their order.

"Gentlemen," she greeted, so cool and polite, so calm and deliberate amid all the noise. "What can I get you tonight?"

"Just scotch to start," Jack ordered, leaning a little bit closer to be heard over the din, in the process moving closer to Sousa. "Two each."

Daniel could feel Jack's breath on his shoulder, on his ear, and he carefully shifted on his stool, just a bit, just enough to allow him some space. Enough distance for Violet to fit between them, maybe.

He'd been trying to be subtle, Jack knew it, but suddenly he was _pissed_. He'd been totally fine before, but then it hit him in a wave, and he wanted to hit Daniel something awful. He was pissed that he'd brought him over here. Was he trying to mock him? He was pissed that he was just sitting there, totally fine, totally oblivious to how badly Thompson wanted to touch him, to just clap him on the shoulder like he had a million times before, and pull him in, pull him closer than ever. He was pissed that he had come all the way over from New York, gotten on a damn plane and honestly, Jack hated flying, had sworn it off as much as possible after he'd gotten home from the war, and he'd arrived here just in time to hear that Sousa was getting hitched. And it was suddenly so unbearable, so totally impossible to sit here in a gay bar in West Hollywood with Sousa close enough to touch but so far he might as well be back in New York, or back in Japan.

Jack was about to stand up, say something about how unimpressed he was even though he could've sworn he'd just seen Judy Garland, and ask--no, tell--Sousa to take him to the real Frolic Room, where he was sure the glam would be legit. And then Sousa's eyes would flash with that frustration that always masked some hurt, and Jack would feel better for it, because for a moment Daniel would feel maybe half as bad as he did, and then Sousa would just tell him it was getting late, and he still had some things to take cafe of back at the precinct, being a chief and all, and after one long, torturously silent car ride, Jack would be able to go to sleep and then get on a goddamn plane back to to New York and that'd be the end of that, and he wouldn't even get a telegram invitation to the wedding. Which would be fine with him.

Instead, their drinks arrived. "How you boys doing tonight?" the bartender asked as she slid the shot glasses across the bar.

"Fantastic," Jack declared. He clapped Sousa on the back, harder then he should have. "Ain't that right?" His hand rested on the back of Daniel's neck, a secure hold, and he could feel the agent stiffen beneath his cool touch.

Her eyes cut between them, shrewd enough to be an SSR agent. "There're rules here, boys," she reminded them, speaking slowly, carefully.

"Don't worry, Sousa here's getting married," Jack promised, speaking a little too loudly before he'd even touched his scotch. "We're here to celebrate." Still, he slowly lowered his hand again, letting his fingers graze Daniel's back all the way down. All the way down. He saw him shudder. It didn't feel like victory.

"Well, congratulations to you, sir." Her voice was still hard-edged, but she'd settled enough after Jack pulled his hand away. "You have a good night, you hear?"

"Yes, ma'am." Daniel finally spoke up, words firm, back straight. He didn't look at Jack until after he'd picked up his glass.

"Congratulations," Thompson said, picking up his own. He tried to sound sincere. "Best of luck to both you and--what was her name again?"

"Violet," Daniel supplied. Very quickly.

"To you and Violet," he repeated. He lifted his glass high for a toast. "To the Susans."

He clinked his glass against Sousa's before he could react, and threw the shot back straight. It went down smooth, scorching down his throat.

"Jackass," Sousa muttered. But he took a shot.

They took a minute to let the alcohol settle in their heads before starting in on round two. Daniel stared at his empty glass. "What're you doing, Jack?"

"What am I doing? I'm having a drink. What are you doing?"

"What do you mean, what am I doing?"

"What are you doing sitting in a gay bar--a gay bar you've clearly been to before--letting someone who you're pretty certain is a homosexual buy you drinks while you've got an engagement ring for some gorgeous dame burning a hole in your pocket?"

"Celebratory drinks," Daniel reminded him. The argument was weak, and they both knew it.

Jack gestured the woman over, asked for another two drinks and threw down some dollar bills to cover it. "Celebratory drinks. Fine. Think we're square now." He threw back his shot.

"Yeah, we're square." The latest scotch burned its way down. Sousa wasn't so sure he was still in the celebratory mood anymore, especially with that odd look that Jack was giving him again.

Jack picked up his last shot slowly, waiting for Daniel this time. He didn't take his eyes off the brunette as he tossed it back, head tilted all the way back, and Daniel couldn't help that his eyes flicked down to Jack's exposed throat, to the way his Adam's apple bobbed around the scotch. He threw his own drink back too, trying to focus on the trail of heat moving down his throat, not the other one. He tried to think of Violet.

"Let's get some fresh air," he suggested, and he stood up too quickly, and the world spun a little bit. "I think we're done here, yeah?"

"Yeah," Jack agreed slowly. He led the way back out, into the muggy LA air. "How're you feeling? You fit to be driving?"

Daniel shrugged his shoulders, and the motion turned his stomach a little. "I'll be fine." He took another step forward and his crutch slipped, and he almost went crashing to the ground, except Jack was in the way. The blonde's hands automatically went up to steady him, and they were warm, burning hot actually, on his shoulders. They lingered there.

"My hotel room really isn't that far from here," Jack suggested. He was still touching Daniel. "You shouldn't be driving like this."

Daniel wavered for a minute, but then he nodded. "Yeah, okay fine." He pulled out of Jack's grip, but the moment he had he regretted it. The air felt cold right where his hands had been. "Lead the way."

Jack nodded and started heading down the block in the direction he was pretty sure was his hotel. He couldn't believe he'd been just a ten minute walk away from the Frolic Room his whole stay here. SSR life, it keeps you busy. He stayed a few steps ahead, pushing his speed a little bit, knowing he was making Daniel work just a little bit harder. He'd regretted the offer the second it was out of his mouth, and the way Daniel had pulled out of his grasp was just twisting the knife that had stuck him. But there was nothing more he could do now.

 

 

His hotel was one of those classy ones, full accommodations, even came with a cold box stocked with beers and a radio. Jack tossed his jacket onto a chair, gesturing for Daniel to do the same. He grabbed for two beers, popping the tops on the granite countertop and handing one over. The fresh air had already started sobering them both up.

Jack fiddled with the radio, turning on some quiet jazz. Daniel took a swig. The soft notes of the sax filled the silence of the room.

"So why're you marrying her?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Because you just left a gay bar." Daniel dropped his gaze, but Jack pressed on. "Is she a good cover, is that it? Or is she also a queer? Because I've heard that some people do that sometimes."

"I'm marrying her because I love her, Jack. And she loves me. Why's a man gotta choose?"

"So? She's a pretty thing to go out to dinner with. Does that mean you can actually marry her? You know what that brings with it, right?"

Daniel looked down at his bottle. "I know I've gotta give it a try." His voice broke a little bit, and Jack couldn't help but move closer, put a hand on his shoulder again, even if he'd pull away. He didn't.

"I'd love to offer you a proper congrats, Sousa," Jack said softly. "But I can't. Not like this. Not when you're actually going to be miserable."

Daniel met Jack's gaze. They were standing very close together. His eyes flicked down to Jack's lips, then back up again. Jack still hadn't moved his hand.

"I don't got a choice but to try."

"You do." His other hand went up as well. "You got a choice right here, right now. Don't marry her."

The air between them, however little of it there was, was tense. "Okay," Daniel breathed out.

"Okay?" Jack was a little bit surprised to hear the answer that quickly. He hadn't expected it to be so easy. Maybe Sousa had already been wavering, just needed that last push. "Did you just say okay? Just like that?"

In answer, Daniel bridged those last few inches between them, pushing off on his crutch so he could fully reach up, press his lips against Jack's.

Jack had kissed a lot of girls out of vain, desperate attempts to feel something. He'd kissed a lot of guys hoping to feel nothing. The fireworks that exploded in his stomach when Daniel kissed him, finally finally, were unparalleled. It was even better than he'd imagined, in all of his time spent dreaming about right now.

Daniel had never kissed a man before. He'd tried to push that side of him down, tried to ignore it, but he'd never wanted any gal the way he wanted idiot Jack Thompson right then. The sensation of his two day old beard was strange, but he easily settled into the scratchiness of it, let it become familiar. He released his crutch entirely, wrapping his arms around Jack's neck and leaning on him for support instead.

He'd waited a hell of a long time for this, and if he had one night left in LA, Jack was going to make it count. He took a few steps, pushing Daniel gently down onto the bed, climbing on top of him and sucking on his lip needily as he reached for the button on Daniel's stupid Hawaiian shirt.

"I've waited ages for this," he mumbled, struggling to get the words out.

"Then stop taking so damn long," was the retort, as Daniel started pulling at Jack's buttons too. They were so small and backwards, it was frustrating. "I'm getting about as old as your Gam-Gam here."

"Woah." Jack pulled back a little bit, and he looked gorgeous with those bright eyes and damp, red lips. "Total mood killer here, chief."

"Sorry," Daniel responded in a way that meant he wasn't at all sorry. His hair was all ruffled up from Jack's hands.

"Oh, shut up." He pushed Sousa flat onto his back, practically crawling on top of the brunette and going back to work on those damn buttons, meanwhile sucking a bruise onto his pale neck. The man wouldn't be able to tan if his life depended on it.

Finally, he'd gotten his buttons open, and he pulled Sousa up just enough to pull off the shirt altogether. For all his complaining, Daniel hadn't gotten much farther on him, and Jack nearly popped a button altogether getting his own shirt off.

They'd been shirtless in front of each other before. In the locker room of the SSR, or after one of them had taken a beating or been grazed by a bullet and needed to be patched up. Daniel's hands had roamed down Jack's bare arms before, traced cold trails of goosebumps over his back, but it had never been anything like this. There was no comparison that one could even begin to draw, it was like they were in a totally different universe all together, hot and desperate and so, so close to one another.

Jack's breath was coming in shallow gasps. He felt emotionally full, physically empty. None of the times he'd brought strange men into shady hotel rooms hoping to do it _just this once and then please, God, let me be done forever_ could possibly compare to right now. He started fumbling for Daniel's zip. "Please," he begged. "Daniel."

The way he said his name, so full of desperation, so much like salvation, finally did it for Sousa, and he yanked Jack farther onto the bed, flipped them over so he was on top, so he could properly admire the strong, muscled body beneath him, touch it, properly give Jack exactly what he needed.

"Please, Daniel. One night." He was almost incoherent. "Daniel, I need you. Please."

His voice cracked, and Daniel couldn't hold back anymore. One last night in LA, in a swanky hotel in West Hollywood, he gave in to the pleas.

**Author's Note:**

> The Frolic Room is based on Cafe Gala, a 1940s gay bar located on Sunset Blvd. I never thought I'd find myself Googling "1940's LA gay bars," yet here we are. #startedfromthebottomnowweresubterranean  
> Further reading on Cafe Gala can be found [here](http://www.martinturnbull.com/hollywood-places/) and [here](http://www.queermusicheritage.com/may2010h.html) and [here](http://www.playgroundtothestars.com/2013/05/christopher-isherwoods-diary-entry-after-a-visit-to-cafe-gala/). And an essay on gay bars right [here](http://www.glbtqarchive.com/ssh/gay_lesbian_bars_S.pdf). Never say that fanfic never taught you anything about history!
> 
> ETA: Jack's a power bottom, through and through. In case that wasn't obvious from everything, ever.
> 
> If you enjoyed this fic, please leave a kudos and some comments! Hitting me up on [Tumblr](deafhawkeye2k15.tumblr.com) is also an option! Reader responses warm up my cold, dead heart a lil. Let's get together and talk about biromantic!Sousa who isn't just pretending to like Violet, kay?


End file.
